The weather last week was terrible. It was hot. It rained on and off. There were long stretches of torrential downpours. When it wasn’t raining it was hot and the air was dense with 100% humidity. We humans were miserable. The rabbit stretched out on the concrete next to a frozen bottle of water. The hens stayed inside and complained. The goats refused to graze and asked for more hay. But, the Beast was in her element.

Fish must stay submerged in water, and so her world is constrained to under the surface of the pond.

The Beast and her minions (the goldfish) are voracious eaters. Algae is a favorite food. What with the humidity and heat, a sheet of algae bloomed last week on the rock. It is usually out of reach. But, with the rain coming down in warm sheets, there was little difference between the air and the pond. The Beast has good eyesight. She took a look.

Her world expanded.

As did her belly.

*New readers here might want to know that The Beast is a 10 year old koi. I bought her for $3.99 when she was barely 3-inches long. At the time she was white with a big black splotch on her head. She grew, the spot didn’t. She lives year-round in the pond, which is fitted with a pump, flowing water, and a cave so that she survives quite comfortably through the winter.

Buffy is seven years old. Chickens don’t usually live that long, not even doted on backyard birds. Certainly, Buffy is so long-lived thanks to a number of reasons. She’s had more than her share of ailments, but she has survived all of them, primarily, I think, because of her sturdy constitution. That, and I’ve been right there to treat her. It’s also possible that she has defied the odds because of her personality. Buffy is steady. Unflappable. I’m not one of those who believe that chickens are smart, not in the way that we humans gauge intelligence. But, those pea-sized brains do a remarkably fine job making sense of their surroundings and their animal community, and allowing them to live fully in their worlds.

I think that the wonderful thing about having a hen live well into old age is that you I can observe the years of accumulated  knowledge. I saw this the other day. I let the Girls out into the goat pasture to forage in the weeds and compost pile. The youngsters spread out, gleeful with the wealth of things to investigate and eat.

Buffy has seen it all. She knows that it’s work to scratch up those bugs. It’s far easier to eat pellets from the dispenser. Besides, her legs are tired. Buffy knows a cool and comfortable place that she can hang out with her friends, and that’s right where she went.

While the pullets ran this way and that, Buffy settled down for a chat and then a nap with the boys.

Later, when it was time to go back into the chicken run, Buffy was waiting at the gate with the pullets. Yes, Buffy knows exactly what is going on and she knows exactly how to steadily and surely pace her days.

This past week voracious hunters arrived in the backyard, but unlike most predators, I was quite pleased to welcome them onto the property.

Everywhere I look are shimmering, beautiful, lethal dragonflies.

Dragonflies prey on other insects – especially the ones that I find the most bothersome. They catch wasps in midair.

They eat ants.

They eat flies, so I’m especially pleased to see them darting around the barns.

They eat wasps. Last year I couldn’t get into my vegetable garden because of a yellow jacket nest that took me two weeks to destroy. If the dragonflies stick around I won’t have that problem this summer.

Actually, it doesn’t matter what they eat. They’re like jewelry for the yard.

Side-note: Just like there are birdwatchers whose hobby is identifying birds, there are also dragonfly-watchers. If you are one of those knowledgeable people, please let me know what species are photographed here. Thanks!

(Photographs taken by Steve using a camera that requires far more technical know-how than I have.)

The six pullets (I call them the Girls as opposed to The Gems in the Big Barn) are five different breeds, and they will reach maturity in the next few weeks. The first to lay will likely be the White Leghorn, Twiggy. She is my wild child. She’s as fast as Road Runner from the cartoon. I almost expect to hear “beep! beep! as she zips by. She’s flighty and yet curious. I adore her. As soon as the temperature dips to a bearable level, I’ll be outside trying to get her to calm down and slow down enough that I can get near her. I have a few tricks up my sleeve – but will not resort to Wile E. Coyote’s methods of TNT and chicanery.

Twiggy is 16 weeks old today. In the last few days I’ve noticed signs that she is near ready to begin egg laying. Her comb is larger and beginning to flop over.

It remains pink, but is no longer pale. It will be a bright red when she lays her first egg. Betsy Ross, the five-year old Bantam White Leghorn, used to have a bright red comb. It never flopped over – she’s way too petite and elegant for that! But, this summer it has shriveled a bit and taken on a purplish hue, which are signs of a hen past laying age. There she is, behind Twiggy, being sensible in this heat and sitting still on the cool, damp earth. Twiggy, of course, is in mid-stride. It’s not easy getting a photo of her!

Some of the other Girls will be late-bloomers. Veronica is a Cuckoo Marans, and according to the breed standard, her comb should be full and erect, but hers is barely visible on her head. It’s awhile to go before I see her dark brown eggs in the nesting box.

Th Girls are close enough to laying age that about two weeks ago I mixed what was left of the chick food with a bag of laying hen pellets. That’s almost finished, and they’ll be entirely on adult feed this week. The oyster shell dispenser is full. They’ll eat it when they need it. They’re getting plenty of greens and weeds from the garden, and watermelon rinds, etc. I’m careful to not feed table scraps with empty calories, like white rice. I want their first eggs to be strong. (For more about what to feed hens go here.) Now, I just have to sit back and wait. I just hope that Twiggy slows down enough to stop and lay her eggs in the nesting box, and not while on the move!

One week ago the hens in the Big Barn were battling a virulent respiratory disease. Two were near death. Today they all greet me  clear-eyed and hungry. Despite the heat, their energy is back to normal levels.

Ruby was the first to fall ill, and the first to rebound.

Amber, who one week ago was huddled in abject misery, is now back to her curious self.

Onyx, who went broody right when the ailment hit, remained broody throughout. Her eye was swollen shut and she had difficulty breathing, but still she sat in the nesting box. She’s still broody, but now her eyes are wide open and she glares and huffs at all who dare to pass by.

I stopped medicating them with antibiotics on July 17, and so am collecting the eggs, cooking them thoroughly (to inactivate any residual drug efficacy) and am feeding them back to the Gems. I’ll start using them for my own table on the 20th.

A few weeks before the respiratory disease outbreak, I wrote about the wrinkled, ridged and thin-shelled eggs that the Gems were laying. That was likely due to a virus, infectious bronchitis (iB). Sometimes a secondary bacterial infection follows the virus. I think that is what happened here.

In the last week, I’ve noticed a change in the eggs that the Gems are laying.  They are now perfectly smooth and sturdy.  I had thought that the iB was going to be a permanent presence in the flock. It looks like that’s cleared up too.

Tomorrow the Girls in the Little Barn will be 16 weeks old. Some pullets lay their first eggs by the age of 17 weeks (others won’t be until 24 weeks.) I’m going to put wooden eggs in the nesting boxes to give the Girls a clue as to where to lay. Keep an eye on the nesting boxes and let me know if you see anyone trying them out!